


Shades of Grey

by fourth_rose



Series: Crossover Crack [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourth_rose/pseuds/fourth_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of book 6, both Crowley and Aziraphale are sent after Snape by their respective employers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Grey

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 2006 and is set a few hours after Snape and Draco's flight from Hogwarts at the end of "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince".

Aziraphale smiled sadly at the tableau in front of him. It was dark and quiet inside the small, derelict hut; the only sound besides the wind in the trees outside was the slow, regular breathing of the hut's two occupants, who were clearly fast asleep.

 

The blond boy was lying on his side, curled up like a baby inside the womb, his arms wrapped around himself as if he were cold or very, very frightened. He was covered with a long, black cloak that obviously belonged to the man next to him who was sitting with his back against the wall, his face hidden by lanky black hair. From his posture, it was clear that the man hadn't meant to fall asleep, but had merely been overwhelmed by fatigue. One of his hands was resting on the boy's shoulder in a gesture that, to Aziraphale, looked like an attempt at giving comfort from someone who wasn't very good at it.

 

The angel was still lost in contemplation when he heard a small chuckle from the other side of the room. "Touching, isn't it? He seems really afraid that his boy toy might get away."

 

Aziraphale squinted into the darkness. "Is that you, Crowley?"

 

"Who else?" The demon stepped out of the shadows with his usual swagger. "Fancy seeing you here, angel."

 

"What are you doing here, if you don't mind my asking?"

 

"Funny, I was just going to ask you the same."

 

"Come on, we've known each other too long for this kind of game. You're here for Severus Snape's soul, aren't you?"

 

"Of course I am. He'll die within the hour, and if _he_ isn't one for our side, I really don't know who is."

 

Aziraphale shook his head. "There must be some kind of misunderstanding. We've had our eyes on him for a long time, ever since he renounced the ways of his past, and now that he's at death's door, I have been sent to make sure his soul ends up where it belongs." When he noticed Crowley's smirk, he quickly added, "Ends up _with us_ where it belongs, that is."

 

The demon chuckled again. "Ever since he renounced the ways of his past? It amazes me that you're even able to say it with a straight face. Has it escaped your notice that just a few hours ago, he murdered the man who helped and trusted him?"

 

"You know as well as I do that he had no choice, he was oath-bound twice over! If it hadn't been for him, the boy would be as good as dead!"

 

Crowley sneered. "Oh yes, I bet he wouldn't have let that happen, given the keen interest he's always had in pretty little Draco Malfoy! Look at him, he can't keep his hands to himself even now!"

 

Aziraphale blanched. "Crowley, honestly! There has never been anything like that in his thoughts!"

 

"Has it occurred to you that the man's very good at keeping his thoughts to himself, angel?"

 

"You think that he'd be able to fool Heaven just because he fooled that half-crazy Dark Lord of his? Please." Aziraphale grimaced. "Give us _some_ credit."

 

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly. "It doesn't matter anyway. The man is bursting with hatred for everything in the whole wide world, and he's made the life of everyone in his vicinity a living hell whenever he could. Are you able to deny that as well?"

 

"He paid a horrible price for the mistakes in his past, and it has made him hard and bitter, yes. But has he ever acted upon it?" Aziraphale couldn't quite help the smugness in his tone. "He even saved the lives of those he despised several times. He never betrayed his mentor's trust in him, no matter how much it cost him to do so. He has more than made up for his sins, and therefore, he will be forgiven."

 

"Generations of traumatised children would disagree, I suppose."

 

"If that mattered, no teacher would ever have made it into Heaven."

 

"Oh well, have it your way. But do you understand how the curse that he cast today actually works? You need to hate with every fibre of your being, need to be able to focus this hate into the single goal of killing, and he pulled it off without any difficulties. What does that tell us?"

 

"That you have no idea about him." Aziraphale smiled sadly. "Do you know whom he hated so much that he was able to cast the Killing Curse? Himself, Crowley, only himself – for not having been able to prevent this very thing from happening, for having failed both Albus Dumbledore and Draco Malfoy. He was willing to sacrifice his own soul in order to keep the boy from becoming a murderer, and I can't think of a better way to prove that he no longer is the man who once swore allegiance to a creature of darkness. He has repented for his sins, Crowley – he's ours, and there's nothing you can do about it."

 

Crowley's eyes had widened during Aziraphale's speech. "Are you serious? Repented for his sins? He stepped in because the little sissy didn't have the balls to do what he wanted him to do all along! Need I remind you that he stood aside and did nothing while the same boy almost killed two of his classmates and then let a bloodthirsty werewolf into a school full of children?"

 

"He couldn't have prevented it without blowing his cover! You know the risks he took when he agreed to become a spy, and how many lives he saved by doing so!"

 

Crowley stared at the angel with an expression of disbelief. "Your side _really_ bought the spy charade? Look, I know that sappiness is an occupational hazard for you, but do open your eyes and use your brains for a moment, all right? Where do you think he's headed to right now, other than back to kiss the feet of his Lord and Master??"

 

"That's pure speculation, and since he won't live to see the sunrise, the point is moot! Or are you suggesting that he deserves eternal damnation for a crime he _might_ have committed if he hadn't died before he'd got to it? If that's the case, let's send all of humanity straight to Hell and be done with it!"

 

Crowley spat out a curse that caused Aziraphale to frown in distaste. "This will never get us anywhere, angel. You know what? I say we let him live on and see how things turn out."

 

"Are you serious?"

 

"Of course I am. I love the prospect of getting to say, 'I told you so'."

 

"But a group of Aurors is already on their way here, and you know just as well as I do that Alastor Moody is destined to kill Snape in just under an hour from now!"

 

Crowley lifted an eyebrow. "Predestination, angel? Has your side fundamentally changed their politics when I wasn't looking?"

 

Aziraphale's cheeks coloured ever so slightly. "Don't be silly, it was just a figure of speech. But we can't interfere with..."

 

"The hell we can't. Moody's an old man, mad as a hatter, and he's been under a lot of stress lately. His arteries are so far gone that it won't take me more than a stern look at them to make him drop dead."

 

Aziraphale coughed uncomfortably. "I'm not sure we're authorized to..."

 

"You _do_ remember who you're talking to, angel?"

 

It was quiet for a moment before Aziraphale sighed. "Very well, then."

"Thank you ever so much. If it makes you feel better, you can have him afterwards. I just can't seem to get into the whole frothing-at-the-mouth thing anyway."

 

"Uh, thank you – but to be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure my people will want him..."

 

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Are you trying to be contrary just to spite me now?"

 

Aziraphale raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll take him. It's not as if we didn't get enough of his kind during the heydays of the witch hunts, after all; one more will hardly make a difference."

 

"And to think that _I_ get accused of having a taste for cruel irony."

 

"Crowley, please, can we leave it at that? It's almost four a. m., and just in case you've forgotten, tonight's biggest issue isn't settled yet."

 

Crowley shot him a calculating look. "Oh, is that so?"

 

Aziraphale heaved a world-weary sigh. "Don't tell me I really have to remind you that we still need to decide who gets Dumbledore."

 

 

 

 

 

FIN


End file.
